Throughout my life, I have been a door-slammer. I have found it to be an excellent release for pent-up tension. You can feel it and hear it. Like a pitcher on the mound, you put your whole arm into it, and wham! Then, there’s that rewarding thunderous slamming sound. Ahh… sweet relief.I don’t really cuss; definitely do not want to hurt anyone or punch a hole in a wall.
But, I can dang sure slam a door.
When I was a little, my mother encouraged me to scream in a pillow when she could see I was really frustrated about something. I tried the pillow-screaming a few times. It just did not serve as a pop-off valve as well as door slamming.
I remember one time when was about 11, and my grandmother was visiting us for a while. We were arguing about something one morning as I got ready for school. I don’t recall the problem. But, something made me really angry with her. As I was leaving the house, I stomped out the front door, and gave that screen door everything I had. I then walked slowly, so I could enjoy the full effect.
Nothing. No sound at all.
What the heck? Where was that wonderful loud crash that would let her know who had won that argument, release the stress, and send me on my merry way???
I turned around to see what happened. My grandmother was standing there, holding the door. She gave me a knowing, smarmy smile, and simply said, “It didn’t slam – did it?”
Argh!!! She completely defused my only release. Now, I was really angry, eager to get to school and complain to my friends about my smart aleck grandmother.
Oh, I loved her dearly. That is actually one of the things I loved about her. She was not one of those quiet, little knitting grandmothers. She was tough. She knew me well, and she didn’t take “stuff” off anyone. No whiney, little granddaughter was going to get the last slam on her watch.
Because there is no grandmother or other authority figure to catch them and blunt the impact, I still revert to door-slamming when circumstances beyond my control provoke the need.
I have been slamming a lot of doors today – well – for the past several years.
My sweet, sensitive collie doesn’t care for it. But, it still helps me.
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